


Coverts

by Aabysinyaa



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Pigeons, pigeon'verse, they're all pigeons, where i turn people into pigeons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aabysinyaa/pseuds/Aabysinyaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a pigeon, Stiles is a pigeon.</p><p>What more do you want from me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coverts

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea at the Martins first names, if they're mentioned i don't remember it so i made some up, ba..

Derek had always been a rough and tough kind of pigeon. Completely black and with red eyes instead of a dark to light brown, he was also, popular with the females, some of the more forward females even approached his nest, but he'd never taken a mate.

He'd been a part of the Warriors sect of the flock for almost a year now and had made a name for himself, but the flock was breaking down, it'd be finished soon, and without a flock, a pigeon didn't last long, not long at all.

So he'd set off for a new flock, it was harder than he'd thought it would be, the smaller mistook his hulking size and sharp talons for a hawk and fluttered off before he got close, and the larger flocks had surplus Warriors, or didn't trust him. He felt as though he'd flown halfway around the world and for at least four months when he found a small flock that didn't flee when they spotted him.

Made up of a few pairs of mates with their fledgelings and new-hatched, there were no Warriors in sight.

The Chief was the first to approach.

He was a rather average looking bird, but his back was scarred and a toe was missing, feathers a soft gray with splashes of white.

“Greetings,” he called, Derek stopped at a suitable distance and returned the hello, “You are a Warrior?” he asked next. Derek nodded,

“My past flock dispersed. We were quite large,” Derek told him shortly. The leader nodded,

“You wish to fly with us?” he asked bluntly,

“Yes,”

“We don't know,” the leader showed weakness for a moment, “We just came together, we are sure we could use a Warrior such as yourself, we have new-hatched and fledgelings with us and they are young in mind as much as in body,” Derek nodded his agreement, he'd seen fledgelings killed because they wanted to go and fight like Warriors.

“You can remain, on a trial basis,” if pigeons could smirk, he would have been, satisfied, trials were rarely done anymore. “Come, and meet the others,” he lead Derek to where the flock were hidden partially by brush.

“I'm called John, my son is Stiles,” he looked around as though trying to find him, clearly not and shaking his head he gestured at the two rather well groomed mates, “That is Marie and Gregory, but they've given themselves last names, and prefer to be called, Miss Whittmore, and Mr Whittmore. I think they were kept, if you know what I mean,'

“There fledgeling Jackson,” he glanced at a pale grey pigeon, “And their new-hatched, Issac,” at the tiny fluff of down beside Miss Whittmore.

“Melissa, and her fledgling Scott,” two brown pigeons, both dark, the youngster only distinguishing feature being a single white splotch on his left breast.

“Jacqueline and Douglas, and their fledgeling Lydia, and new-hatched, Erica,” the mates were both varying shade of blue grey, and their daughter was almost all white, with flecks of black across her wings. The fluff besides Jacqueline was the same white.

“Everyone, this is, Err,” John turned to him.

“Derek,”

“This is Derek! He's a Warrior looking for a flock, I’ve given him a trial. Any objections?” no one spoke then Mr Whittmore said,

“He looks dangerous, are you sure about this,” he made no movements but inside Derek was slightly incredulous. He would claim Derek dangerous while he stood before him?

“That's what the trial is for,” John responded, feathers ruffling in what could only be embarrassment. Derek still didn't say a word.

“Woah,” a new voice cawed, “He's huge, where did you find him Dad, a Raven's nest?” a fledgeling tall but skinny was hopping over to him with little ceremony.

He was a rush of every colour he'd seen on a pigeon before, whites and browns and blacks and greys, his eyes a funny amber.

“This is,” John paused, exasperation clear in his voice, “My fledgeling, Stiles”.

The smaller rushed around the still Derek with a fervor that he couldn't muster on the best of days. Inside Derek felt off, his heart sped up and he felt his feathers fluff a bit.

“What's your name?” Stiles asked, “Where are you from? You're a Warrior aren't you, your talons are sharpened and everything. How do Warriors even sharpen their talons, do you even wonder something for so long it makes your tail feathers itch?” at this the fledgeling wiggled his tail feathers and Derek's eyes widened a little.

Backing up a little Derek tried to get some space but Stiles followed, “Do you ever stop?” Derek asked as the manic before him opened his beak again. It snapped shut.

“Derek. Sydney. Rocks,” he stated then, because he found he couldn't deny the kid. Stiles cocked his head,

“You managed to answer my questions with three words,” he stated, “What is wrong with you!”

“Stiles maybe you should leave Derek alone, he's starting a job and I’d hate to have to ask the first Warrior we've seen in months to leave because he went temporarily insane and decided to butcher my son,” John crooned softly, laughing a little.

Derek got to work immediately, scouting the area, noting everything that was a potential hazard, there were a huge number, he was surprised the flock had survived at all.

He angled swiftly to talk to the leader. Derek spotted Stiles immediately as he came in close to the flock who were grouped close while he patrolled. He was talking hurriedly to that Scott boy, wings flicking and tail swaying as he gesticulated wildly.

As enthused as he was he was the first to spot Derek over head, the black spot passing over him several times before landing to talk.

“There's a fox den by the gum tree, and cats have taken residence in the grass by the ferns. There is also a hawks nest by the ponds,” he told them, silently wondering how so much danger could go on ignored, even by the untrained.

“What do you advise?” John questioned.

“We move higher till the new-hatched are fledging and when they have flown we move,” Derek told them, glancing at the two new-hatched in question.

“Did it hurt?” Stiles cackled, “To say that much at once?!”

Derek ignored him, feathers starting to fluff again, this wasn't normal, he'd never reacted this way to anyone, not even the hawk Kate who he had so admired before she'd taken his entire family in one night, sparing only himself, his sister and his horribly mutilated uncle.

“Does it hurt to not speak?” he questioned the younger sarcastically, however Stiles nodded enthusiastically,

“Sure does, I have to just keep going and going, until I feel like my beak is going to fall off!” he tittered, all out laughing at the expression Derek knew was on his face.

“Thank you for your information Derek, we'll get to work on that right away,” John told him and soon all were working to forge nests high up in the trees, an intricate lacework of sticks and grass, woven together, all the nests close to avoid separation.

Derek watched the new-hatched until the nests could support them and they could be placed within them and then got to work on his own.

It rested in a forked branch above the flock to better watch them and for danger. He padded the nest comfortably, though he didn't care much for the comfort.  
It wasn't till he'd worked the soft fur of a fox he'd found caught on some bark, and dried grass that he noticed that Stiles liked these comforts.

He didn't think he'd noticed this consciously but he felt the urge to rip it all apart and start again. An urge he couldn't work himself up to doing.

________________________

Stiles liked this new pigeon, his dark feathers, that seemed to absorb the light around them, a stark contrast to the pure white he'd so often admired on Lydia. His red eyes burned everything he looked upon so thoroughly Stiles was sure his feathers had been seared away and he was left strangely hollow when Derek had turned away.

Now, even as night fell and the older pigeon became almost invisible against the backdrop of darkness Stiles endeavored to watch him.

He wanted to be forward, to visit his nest, invite himself in, groom those dark feathers, but he was not. Forward was something he'd never been, forward was Lydia who was already half mated to Jackson, Lydia who was stalking toward Derek glowing even against his darkness.

“I'm Lydia,” she declared, Derek didn't even shift, only,

“I know,”

“I wish to groom you,” she continued on, Stiles vaguely heard Jackson make an un-pigeon like squawk in the background, but it was drowned out by a horrid rushing sound, and a feeling, almost like rage, he'd gone deadly still, a challenge, he could challenge.

“No,” the relief Stiles felt at the word was so great he felt deflated, emptied of any other feelings he'd felt before. Lydia was persistent though and moved forward anyway. The sound Derek made was almost hawkish and Lydia backed up immediately,

“You are young, so I will give you leeway, but I would think twice before deciding you would like to have me,” Derek's eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, “Do not think that because you have pretty flight feathers you are deserving of everyone’s affections”.

Saving what dignity she had left, Lydia took her leave, returning to the nest Jackson had built for her, stealing a lot of the soft that Stiles had collected for himself, in an attempt to make her happy.

Stiles could hear her now, placating Jackson by telling him that she'd not been running off on him, merely testing the newcomer and Jackson himself.

He suppressed a scoff, that was a lie, Lydia was covering her tail feathers. She wanted the best and until Derek, Jackson had been the best.

__________________________________

The next few weeks were fraught with attacks, but not from predators It seemed that Lydia was determined and, whenever Jackson was out of sight she would approach Derek again. But just as determined, Derek would brush her off or downright tell her no.

Stiles though, seemed to be getting more and more attention from the newcomer, now not so new.

He'd often bring soft fur he'd either snatched from a fox or cats back during an attack, or soft grass, Stiles didn't understand the motivation, but perhaps he'd noticed, as most did, Stiles affection for such things.

Scott did the same when he found something also, as did his father, but Derek supplied him with such a number that Stiles would never have to live with a stick skewing his feathers again.

If his father had noticed he hadn't said a word, but Scott was vocal about it, often earning Stiles scathing looks both from Jackson who now hated anything to do with Derek on principle, and Lydia, who wished for anything but a rejection from Derek.

Stiles slept easier and easier still, the longer Derek stayed, and his confidence in him only grew as he watched the large pigeon wound a cat so viciously that it had to limp away.

As he reached a year of flight and the new-hatched were fledging they prepared to move, Stiles could not take his soft with him though he wished he could and he wondered if Derek would continue to give him a supply.

Erica, the youngest was soon openly approaching Derek as well, any confidence Lydia had wasn't present in Erica however, she was subtle about it, so subtle that sometimes Derek didn't even seem to notice. It infuriated Stiles, he wished to claim to rake them with his talons and fight them off.

But Derek was so clear, about not wanting to mate with ones so young that, though he had a four seasons on Lydia, he felt he was in the same classification.

____________________________________

Moving day was uneventful, only a single hawk was spotted, and it was easily avoided.

Everyone was quick to get to work on their nests. This time Stiles found he wished to nest further away from his father, further from everyone in fact. Starting on a forked branch to their left and just above he started on a larger nest that his last, wedged between Scott, Lydia and Jackson.

This time, Derek also worked on a nest high over the others, there were more nests on the lowest branches this time, the new fledged wanting their own and so, crowding everyone.

Stiles was notably absent from this grouping, choosing to nest away, on his own branch, and though he didn't want to, Derek couldn't help but note it was closer to him now. Stiles had, had to leave all his soft fur and grass behind after this move and Derek noted how, meticulous he was at tucking away anything pointed into the nest. He didn't have time to look for something soft for the younger, but there was something.

Grooming meticulously he pulled free a few feathers, not enough to make much of a difference, but enough to pad some of the more uncomfortable areas.

He gathered them up in his talons and took off, floating on a light breeze down the few branches to Stiles' nest. “Here,” he told him softly, offering the talon full of velvety black feathers. Stiles just stared at him, eyes wide,

“You want me to nest with your feathers?” Derek, if it were possible for a pigeon to blush, would be at this point, nodded.

Gingerly gathering them up from Derek's own talons, he felt his feathers fluffing, and saw that Derek's were doing the same.

Derek watched, as he weaved his feathers into the nest before returning to his own, by the end of it Stiles own feathers were standing on end, like fluffy pins in a doll.

Scott came up after he'd finished his own nest, as soon as he saw the feathers Stiles thought his lower jaw was going to drop off, “Oh my god!” Scott, almost screeched, everyone looked at him in exasperation for a moment, before turning back to their business.

He lowered his voice, “Oh my god Stiles, he gave you his feathers,”

“I know,” Stiles felt warm from his beak to tail tip,

“I though you said he wouldn’t ever be interested in someone like you,”

“He's not,”

“Stiles,” this time Scott sounded firm, “He wanted you to line your nest with his feathers, if that's not interest I don't know what is,” he sounded sure of himself this time.

“Glad we've confirmed your complete stupidity when it comes to interest,” Stiles cooed with a chuckle.

“Oh yeah, then why is he glaring at me for talking to you?” Stiles turned to look at Derek, he was brooding, in this general direction he supposed,

“Cause, you're an idiot?” Scott glared.

When his father came to check his nest to make sure it was safe, the bottom had only fallen out once but now he insisted, it turned out that he hadn't known about the feathers and the other soft that was being brought to Stiles by Derek.

If the stuttering, shock and embarrassment was anything to go on, there was a little anger as well, both at Derek and at Stiles for not telling him.

“He's been giving you these gifts for a while now?” he asked, careful not to speak to loudly,

“Not,” Stiles started to lie, “Well, since maybe a few weeks after he arrived, I didn't notice the extras at first, I though Jackson had just stopped stealing,”

“As soon as I prove the little bastard does that I’ll get him for it too,” his father muttered.

“And well, I like it,” Stiles mumbled,

“Stiles, you're barely old enough to mate-fly,” his father started,

“But, I’ve been practicing,” Stiles mumbled, his admission seemed to pluck up his nerve and he began again, “I've been practicing, you keep forgetting Dad, i'm four seasons older than all the other fledgelings,”

“Are you forgetting that Derek is around twelves seasons older than you and a Warrior?” His dad proclaimed,

“I'm not,” Stiles felt his wings flick in agitation, “Are you forgetting that Mum was sixteen seasons older than you? Did your being a Warrior interfere at all!?”

He felt like half the flock was watching, Derek included and didn't like it.

__________________________________________________________

Derek watched in trepidation as the Leader inspected his sons nest, their conversation was getting more and more heated and Stiles was quickly losing his temper.

He heard John proclaim something about mate-flying and then Stiles response and felt his feathers fluff more than they ever had before, he forced himself to calm down.

He'd been practicing.

Oh.

He needed to go for a fly, his feathers were all ruffled, and the cool air would help him think. Taking off quickly and flying upward till the group was out of sight he shuddered all over.

Slowly he let the urge to do what he'd known instinctively since he grown welled up and he gave in.

______________________________________________________________

His father seemed to calm slightly and sighed, “I understand, and stiles, it's not something that you practice, it's something that comes from here,” he told him placing the bend of his wing against Stiles' chest, “Your mother would be so much better at explaining this,” he whispered, they didn't really talk about Stiles' mother, not since she'd been killed.

It made his feathers flatten protectively over his skin. A poor shield against the sadness.

“Dad, I’ve never felt this strongly about anything before, and I don't even know if Derek is the same,” Stiles spoke softly, his father sighed hugely before tapping him hard on the head with his beak.

“Of course he'd feel the same, how could he not, I’ve been ignoring the signs since day one,” his father chuckled at Stiles' feathers fluffing up in indignation at the pecking. His insane painters array of feathers becoming even more insane by the movement.

“Good job you're getting better at building a nest, I guess you won't be around forever,” Ok so the base had fallen out more than once, but his Dad was right, he was getting much better.

“Thanks Dad,” Stiles told him softly as his Dad left, he settled into his nest for a bit of a rest, half asleep was when he finally noticed that Derek wasn't in his nest, it sat, half complete.

A base and low rim.

Plucking a few feathers with a quick grooming, and one that was ready to fall from his chest he deposited them in a pile in the centre of the nest before returning to his own.

Derek didn't return until dark, and by then, almost all had settled down to roost. Stiles had long since dozed off, all but his father, who had stayed up to keep watch while he was away.

He eyed his nest and was quick to spot the small bundle of brown, white and one black feather in his nest. A soft noise escaped him, of surprise, despite it being obvious now that Stiles felt for him also, but also affection.

Threading the feathers carefully into his nest, he looked over at Stiles, who slept softly, before settling down over his half complete one.


End file.
